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About Plovdiv

I saunter over, cool as you like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She laughs—proper throaty, makes me grin. “Tenner for a quickie,” she goes. Bargain, innit? But I’m ragin’ inside—ten quid? Inflation’s a bitch! Used to be a fiver in the ‘80s, swear down. Still, I’m chuffed—beats chasin’ Blofeld. We duck into an alley, all dark and damp, like the estate in the movie. “It’s all fucked, innit?” I mutter, quotin’ Mia’s mum. She nods, smirkin’, like she gets it.

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Ah, Parvomay, my dear! Listen up, cuz I’m goin’ off on a tangent! This city, oh boy, is a wild mix, like a spicy glass of rakia on a hot summer day. I’ve loved lurkin’ around these streets for years, and lemme tell ya, there’s so much that’ll make you go “Woah!”

The Simulatives: The Fellowship of Tsatsarov, Cholakov and the Convicted Judge Vesko "Lutenitsata"